


Neville Longbottom and the Longest Year

by Niko_Niko_Neek



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 7th year, Angst, Battle of Hogwarts, F/M, M/M, Rebellion, Silver Trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 00:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21518719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niko_Niko_Neek/pseuds/Niko_Niko_Neek
Summary: Neville was sixteen years old and standing in the train corridor when he realized everything was going to be different.---------A chronology of the Silver Trio's seventh year at Hogwarts, and all that it entails.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood & Ginny Weasley (Platonic), Neville Longbottom & Ginny Weasely (Platonic), Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Neville Longbottom and the Longest Year

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge fan of Neville, Ginny and Luna all being friends, and I felt like there was a severe lack of fic with them as the focus. So naturally, I decided to narrate the worst year of their lives. Hope ya'll enjoy :)

Neville was sixteen years old and standing in the train corridor when he realized everything was going to be different.

He was alone, for the time being. Typically he was used to these circumstances-Neville hadn’t really gotten any solid friends until his fifth year, just two short years ago, and had been more than content to pass his time with a nose in a book or studying a cactus or succulent he’d decided to take under his wing. Before that, there had been his grandmother, but their relationship was strained by expectations and demands that Nevillie scarcely ever seemed to meet, or meet well enough. 

After the D.A., things had changed. He’d found a few things he was good at-really good at. He’d gotten better at things he hadn’t been good at. He’d made friends-at least two for sure-who liked being around him for the mere sake of being around him.

Now, he found himself wondering if it was better for neither of them to get on the train at all.

Diagon Alley was practically deserted. Any shops that weren’t currently catering to the ‘Undesirable’ narrative had been boarded up and abandoned. The ones that remained either sold cursed artifacts or the most basic components of wizardry. Even the broom shops had closed, which he was reluctant to tell Ginny about when she boarded.

Speaking of, two distinct heads of hair became visible among the faint stream of students who were trickling into the train. A shock of red with another shock of white-blonde. Neville felt his shoulders relax, and he lifted his hand with a small smile.

Ginny wasted no time spotting him, tugging Luna along by the arm. “They closed the damn broom shop, Nev! Did you see that?!”

He gave an apologetic smile, nudging a compartment door open once the two of them had approached. “I did,” he replied. “It’s a shame. Quidditch isn’t fostering some rebel cause, are they?”

Luna, taking a seat beside Ginny across from him, looked up. “That depends. Are you referring to presently, or the Waxing Conspiracy of the 60’s?”

The casual topic, being brought up as though common knowledge, made a warm glow of familiarity spread in Neville’s chest. It was remarkable how fond he’d become of Luna, with her wild hair and airy way of speaking, in such a short time. Despite only having really spoken to her two years prior, he felt like he’d known her for much longer. “Er, presently, I guess.”

“It’s ridiculous.” muttered Ginny, crossing her arms. “All this rubbish going on and they don’t even give me the decency of a Quidditch match anymore.

“It’s a shame.”

“You still have your broom, don’t you?” asked Luna. “Maybe they’d let you take it out during our free periods.”

“Mum’s not letting me bring it this year.” Ginny sighed, and from the expression on her face, Neville guessed it was only another drop in a whole sea of troubles.

The unspoken topic of Harry’s absence seemed to hover over the three of them like storm clouds. Neville knew it would be ridiculous for Harry to turn up for school, given that everyone and their mother was currently hunting for him, but a small part of him had still hoped against hope that he might show up.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Luna settled a hand on Ginny’s arm, effectively stealing the words from Neville’s mouth. It wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened-Neville remembered a few times in class where he’d been wondering something, or had some kind of comment, but had been reluctant to speak up-only to have Luna politely ask the question for him. It made him wonder if she had some kind of latent occumelency abilities that she wasn’t telling anyone about.

Ginny smiled, but the possibility that he wasn’t was still lingering just behind her eyes.

“If something had happened,” Neville added, “We would’ve heard it by now. You know they’d brag.”

The train ride continued and, for the first time since he was eleven, Neville felt a mounting knot of anxiety growing in his stomach. There was no way to know what to expect. McGonnagal would still be at Hogwarts, and even though he always had the feeling she’d disliked him in some way, Neville found some comfort in that fact. Slughorn was missing, last he’d heard. As for the other teachers, he really had no idea. He only hoped desperately that Sprout was still there. She wasn’t the head of his house, but her class was the only one Neville had ever really felt confident in, and he’d stayed several times after class just to chat with her about whatever plant variety interested him that day.

His worries seemed to be echoed in both of his friends. Ginny kept fiddling with her wand, twirling it over and over again in her fingers until it emitted a small shower of green sparks and she hastily stashed it back in her robes. Even Luna, typically the picture of eccentric serenity, kept gazing out of the window in thought. She would smile whenever catching Nevillie looking at her, but it was shallow and superficial.

She was worried, too. Everyone was. And, when the train rumbled to a halt outside of Hogwarts, it was clear why.

A row of Death Eaters, none of whom Neville recognized, were waiting to greet them off the train. Hagrid was nowhere in sight.

The reaction was varied across the students who remained. A few Slytherins, including Crabbe and Goyle, let out a few excited whoops. Other Slytherins, particularly the younger ones, appeared scared, and seemed to be looking to the older ones for direction. A few went pale.

Neville was one of those.

His limbs felt as though they were locked in place. His eyes darted from stern face to stern face, searching for a mop of wild, black hair, ears strained for the hint of an unhinged cackle.

“Neville?”

A soft voice, to his right. He shut his eyes tightly, his breath turning to ice in his lungs.

“It’s alright. She isn’t there. Ginny looked to make sure.”

He still can’t move. Dimly, he feels Luna’s hand slip into his own.

“We’ll play a game. Alright? We’ll count steps.”

Numb to his bones, Neville forces out a nod. 

It’s not the first time that panic has gripped him this tightly, but it’s the first time since the Ministry that it’s happened. Neville had almost hoped that the episodes would be over after having faced the woman himself, successfully or not.

How’s mum and dad, Longbottom?

“Ready? One…”

The counting continues, and with each one, he makes his feet move. After about four or five, they’re moving without him being aware of it. His gaze is rooted to the rainsoaked ground.

“Ready for the new term, Longbottom?” Goyle jeers faintly. “Ready to get a real lesson or two?”

The hand tightens in his. “What number are we on, Neville?”

He swallows, forcing his brain to work. “....Thirteen.”

“Good.”

He catches a flash of red from the corner of his eye.

“I’ve looked ahead. They’re all just bumming around in the Great Hall. Is he okay?”

“He’s alright,” Luna says. “I’ve got him.”

And, of course, she does. They both do.

By the time they reach the Great Hall, Neville has managed to power through the worst of it. His breathing still feels a little off, but he can actually form a coherent thought, and thinks he’d manage speech if he really has to. But he doesnt want to and, as he takes a seat beside Ginny at the Gryffindor table (Luna had to return to the Ravenclaws, but she gave him a small hug around the shoulders before going), he’s thankful more than anything for Ginny’s ability to conduct conversation. She keeps the talk deflected away from Neville, ensuring that he doesn’t have to engage.

The chatter with Seamus is short-lived, however. Snape soon gets to his feet, earning a few truly hateful glares from the gathered students. Neville feels a terrific lurch of anger at the image of Snape sitting in the gold chair where Dumbledore had sat for so many years.

“A tumultuous year for the best of us,” Snape begins. “But here we are. Despite the violence inspired by so many, despite so many threats to out way of life, we remain as present as the stone walls within which we are encased.”

Ginny leans over. “Even his voice sounds greasy.”

“There are a few orders of business I will need to announce before we begin our feast,” he continues. “Such times require a dramatic re-invention of the method of which Hogwarts has been run. A rather...Disappointing method, as it has been in the past.”

Neville is certain he’s not the only one having pink flashbacks to Umbridge.

“Firstly, all time-wasting activities, such as Quidditch and other such clubs, will no longer be taking place on the grounds.”

That gets an uproar going. Several students from different houses begin to mutter with passionate distaste, and a few even shout.

“That’s rubbish!”

“Cancel Quidditch? What’s the point?”

It isn’t Snape, but a man with a rather pointed face and a permanent sneer who stands up. He withdraws his wand and aims it at random. It goes off with a bang, sending a young Hufflepuff thudding to the ground with a cry of pain.

Neville feels blood drained from his face, and beside him, both Seamus and Ginny have gotten to their feet. Neville grabs at Ginny’s arm.

“What?” She hisses with furious impatience.

But Neville, partial to some of the more select horrors Death Eaters are capable of, replies steadily.

“They won’t just kill you.”

Ginny swallows, her fury just barely kept in check. Slowly, she returns to her seat. Her eyes never leaving the front room.

“That won’t be the last time, either,” The man adds with a gruesome smile. 

It isn’t. Snape continues his speech, predictable jargon about the upcoming solace of the new age, the extensive list of rules, and makes a point to mention that any attempts to contact or otherwise assist any wanted criminals will result in severe punishment.

Food appears. Barely anyone eats.

“What are we going to do?” Neville asks in a small voice.

“It’s a ploy to see how many people are still going to fight,” Ginny says, speaking a chunk of potato with her fork in a manner that indicated she was imagining it as Snape’s face. “And they’re about to find out just how many are.”

But, sitting at the scarlet table, Neville doesn’t feel particularly brave.

Not brave at all.


End file.
